


One Last Caress from the Corpse of Love

by Zoadgo



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-10
Updated: 2014-08-10
Packaged: 2018-02-12 13:03:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2110911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zoadgo/pseuds/Zoadgo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The noose around his neck, the impending death, the injuries from being beaten. None of that was the worst part of Murphy's execution. The worst part was the betrayal, and now Murphy has a chance to get even. He has Bellamy tied up, and he can do anything he wants to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Last Caress from the Corpse of Love

“What do you want me to say? You want me to apologize? I’m-“ Murphy adjust the gun he has aimed at Bellamy’s chest, causing Bellamy to pause for a second. If he really thinks Murphy will let him off that easy, the guy never really knew him.

“I’m sorry.”

“You got it all wrong, Bellamy. I don’t want you to say anything. I want you feel what I felt.” Murphy smirks at Bellamy and half laughs before his face falls back into something one shade calmer than a murderous rage. “To know what it’s like to open yourself up and trust someone, then have them kick the platform out from under your feet and leave you to die!”

It’s that pain that Murphy draws on now, as Bellamy pleads for his life. He honestly can’t remember the feeling of the rope around his neck, or what the delinquents had been shouting. All he sees when he thinks back on that day is the look on Bellamy’s face when he tries to execute Murphy, and the sharp knife that had stabbed into his heart knowing that the man he supported had no desire to back him up when his life was on the line.

Bellamy starts forward. “Murphy, I-“

“That’s far enough.” Murphy settles the gun more firmly against his shoulder, stilling Bellamy’s movements. “Kneel down and put your hands behind your back.”

“Murphy, you don’t have to do this. If you let me go now, things can go back to normal, I promise.” He moves according to the instructions, Murphy circling behind and approaching him as silently as possible. Bellamy is stronger than him, so he has to get restraints on him quickly if his plan is to work.

“Really? I don’t believe you.” Tears gather in Murphy’s eyes, but he doesn’t let them fall. “I wish I could, but you’ve proven yourself very untrustworthy in the past.”

He crosses the last few steps in a rush and slaps handcuffs on Bellamy’s wrists. They had been part of Bellamy’s borrowed guard uniform, and Murphy likes the irony that something that helped bring Bellamy to Earth will help him leave it as well. Plus they’re far easier to secure than rope.

Murphy jumps back and raises the gun as soon as the cuffs are secure, expecting Bellamy to try and attack him. But Bellamy stays motionless, his head hanging loosely, not protesting even though Murphy can plainly see that the cuffs are too tight. Not that it will matter in a bit.

“I did. I fucked up because I was afraid.” This apology seems more genuine, less Bellamy desperately begging for his life, so Murphy allows him to finish, “I could forgive you for everything you’ve done, but that wouldn’t begin to earn forgiveness for what I’ve done. I’m so sorry.”

“You were afraid that your little mob would turn on you? They wouldn’t have, you know. It would have been harder to calm them than to give in, but you should’ve done it.” Murphy’s rage is a difficult thing to control, but he pulls it back from rifle butting Bellamy in the head or shooting him. He has a plan, and he’ll stick to it.

“You’re right, I should have.”

“You were weak.” Murphy spits as he paces around to face Bellamy again. “And I’ll show you just how weak you really are. Stand on that crate.”

Bellamy positions himself in the makeshift noose and Murphy feels a sick thrill of joy at the idea that he will finally be able to touch Bellamy Blake. Ever since Bellamy had approached him shortly after they reached the ground, Murphy had been enthralled by him. His confidence, charisma, the looks didn’t hurt either. And now he’s under Murphy’s control.

Murphy sets aside the gun and smiles as he walks up to Bellamy.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted to do this to you, Bellamy?” He stops just inches away, close enough to hear Bellamy’s breathing.

“Since I executed you.” He looks confused by the question, and Murphy laughs slightly. Of course he doesn’t get it yet.

“Not the killing part. That will happen, don’t get me wrong, but first I’m going to have some fun. I was asking if you know how long I’ve wanted to do this.” Bellamy braces as if expecting a blow, but the hand Murphy reaches out is far more gentle. He slides it under Bellamy’s shirt, causing Bellamy to jump slightly at the contact. He rolls Bellamy’s shirt up and gazes at the well defined muscles there before tracing them with his fingers.

“What are you doing, Murphy?” Bellamy’s brow is furrowed, but he doesn’t try to fight back. Which is good because it would ruin everything if he did.

“Surely you’re familiar with this. With girls, mind you, but it’s still sex in the end.” Murphy would love for Bellamy to pin him down and fuck him like no tomorrow, or to bury himself deep inside the leader’s ass, but those are fantasies of days gone by. He has something slightly different planned, something where he’s not quite as vulnerable.

Murphy leans forward and places open kisses against Bellamy’s abs, tasting the sweat on his skin. He trails the kisses down to the waist of Bellamy’s pants, teasing along the edge with the fingers of one hand as the other rubs at Bellamy’s half formed erection through the heavy cloth.

“Murphy, you shouldn’t-” 

“Whatever the hell we want, right? That’s the phrase that got most of us to follow you, back when you weren’t Clarke’s lapdog. Well, this is what I want.” He unbuttons Bellamy’s pants and pulls them down along with his underwear. Even not fully erect, Bellamy is well endowed. Murphy wants to lean forward and take that gorgeous cock in his mouth, to draw moans out of Bellamy with his tongue, but instead he walks behind Bellamy. He wants to know Bellamy in a way that no one else has.

Bellamy’s ass is a gift from the gods, Murphy decides. Perfectly toned like the rest of him, on display for Murphy’s pleasure. Murphy drags his hands down Bellamy’s back, lightly dragging a finger between Bellamy’s cheeks and over his hole, earning a startled gasp.

“ _This_ is what I want.” Murphy repeats.

Much to his surprise, Bellamy’s legs spread under only slight prompting. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Murphy carries on. He spreads Bellamy’s ass, taking in the sight of the most private part of him. and then he leans in. Starting just behind Bellamy’s balls, Murphy licks a long strip to the top of his ass. Bellamy’s breath is definitely coming quicker now.

He repeats that a few times, until Bellamy begins to let out small, choked back noises when Murphy’s tongue skims over his asshole. Murphy feels a thrill of joy, knowing he’s going to make this powerful man fall apart with just his tongue and fingers. He wonders briefly if Bellamy would come untouched, with enough work.

Murphy focuses his attention, lapping at Bellamy’s hole a little until he begins to feel the tight muscle relax. Then he spears his tongue, diving slightly into Bellamy before pulling out, a tease of things to come. He repeats the thrusts of his tongue, delving deeper each time.

“Fuck, Murph.” Bellamy’s voice rumbles through the dropship, and Murphy quickens his pace. The curses and moans that begin to fall from Bellamy’s lips make Murphy feel like the most powerful person alive. But he wants to feel more of Bellamy, so he pulls away.

“You like being tied up and getting your ass eaten out? You like the idea of a guy behind you?” Murphy has to be harsh with him, has to try and distance himself from the situation. But when he leans to see Bellamy’s reaction, it’s not quite what he expected. Bellamy is flushed, panting for breath, fully erect and leaking precome. Murphy’s words only seem to heighten his arousal.

“Not any guy. You.” Fuck, that wasn’t part of the plan. So Murphy growls and breaks eye contact, glaring at Bellamy’s back for a moment. Fuck him for still being able to make Murphy feel like this. A slow smile comes across Murphy’s face at the realization that he absolutely can fuck him. He briefly sucks on a few fingers before circling Bellamy’s hole with the tip of one.

“Please.” Bellamy practically begs, and Murphy decides he’s had enough being gentle and teasing. He pushes his finger deep inside Bellamy, drawing a gasp and feeling the muscles clench tight around him. He gives Bellamy a brief second to adjust before moving his finger slightly, delighting in the chorus of “fuck”s and “shit”s that he receives in return. He begins to pump the single digit, searching for that sweet spot within Bellamy, taking guidance from the way Bellamy moves against his hand.

“Oh god, Murphy!” Bellamy’s head snaps back as Murphy brushes the sensitive bundle of nerves. He grins and does it again, hearing his name shouted from Bellamy’s lips every time. He slicks a second finger with saliva and slides it in, Bellamy groaning at the addition but not protesting when he uses both of them to ruthlessly assault Bellamy’s prostate.

“Fucking hell, Murph, please.” Bellamy begs.

“Tell me what you want.” Murphy is surprised at how much deeper his own voice is.

“Touch me, something, please.” Murphy continues moving his fingers as he laughs against Bellamy’s skin.

“You can come whenever you want, but you’re going to do it on just my fingers. Yeah?”

“Fuck.” Murphy accepts that as a yes and crooks his fingers, bearing down in a particularly hard and long stroke within Bellamy. That proves to be the other man’s undoing, as Bellamy lets out a moan and climaxes, cum shooting onto the metal floor. Murphy strokes his prostate cruelly a few more times before pulling his fingers out and wiping them on the back of Bellamy’s shirt. He rolls it back down and pulls Bellamy’s pants back up, neither of them saying anything.

Then there’s the sound of a spark, and the dropship door begins to open. Murphy’s head whips up and he remembers that this ends with him dying. There never was another option. As he looks up at Bellamy one last time he sees the hatch leading to the second floor. He sprints for it, knocking over the crate in the process. Murphy spares a precious second on the ladder, debating whether he should go back and cut Bellamy down. But the stomping of feet on the loading ramp assures him that rescue is imminent for Bellamy, if not himself.

Maybe it’s desperation to live now that he knows what sort of noises Bellamy makes when being fucked, but Murphy finds a way out. And maybe it’s his own imagination, but it doesn’t seem like Bellamy throws quite his full weight onto the hatch when trying to open it. No matter why it happens, Murphy escapes. He risks one last glance, and sees Bellamy in the hole he blew in the side of the dropship. He’s mouthing one word.

“Go.”

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I gave up on this. It's terrible, I'm pretty sure. But I've had it sitting for a month now, trying to sort out the characterization and shit, and I just gave in and decided I had to post it or discard it. So I posted it, sorry! Anyway, title is from Cyanide Sun by HIM. Edited by the goddess of smut [coldsaturn!](http://coldsaturn.tumblr.com)
> 
> As always, feel free to talk to me [on tumblr!](http://randommaces.tumblr.com) And thanks for commenting/viewing/leaving kudos <3


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